Harry Liked Boys Who Could Handle Their Brooms
by R.A.I.731
Summary: A collection of fulfilled prompts from the drarry-prompts blog on Tumblr. One-shots range from fluffy to depressing to humourously smutty, and all with loads of Drarry. Overall disclaimer:I do not own HP, just the blog.
1. A Depressing Two Prompts

Draco was hitting an all time low, and although his back bone was a very supportive boyfriend and a green-clad house, he couldn't make it another day. His simple yet sophisticated way of bringing in hundreds of Death Eaters to Hogwarts brought atremendous amount of violence. And the headmaster was dead, which meant Draco had blood on his hands. The blood of his former professor may be theoretical, but now his own literal blood covered his hands, and his own tears covered his face. Draco knew there was another face pressed to his, more hands trying to stop his blood from flowing, a voice asking why he did it, but Draco was shell shocked. He actually just slit his wrists, actually just succumbed to the pain and fucking just actually tried to leave his boyfriend. His boyfriend who was perfect and loving and handsome and deserved someone better than the fucked bloke who lay on the grimey bathroom floor of their recked school and sobbed in his own blood. Draco really shouldnt be complaining- the pain was self-induced and glorious, and he was gone, and Harry was gone, and the last thing he remembered was a pair of cold and chewed on lips whispering to him to please stay.

Harry had finally thought he won. Thought that since the war was over, he would be able to unite his family, friends, lover. Harry had won everything within the first few traumatic weeks after the war. But then the ground was pulled from under his feet, and it seemed that the world was sucked into a vacuum cleaner and the remnants were Draco's even paler body and a pool of blood.

A few people who didn't even know Draco had cleaned up the mess, people Draco wouldn't even let touch his body. Now they mopped up his blood, and Harry used his sleeve to wipe up his tears. He went to the room that he found so many years ago, the room where everything really seemed to start for him. The Mirror was still there.

First he saw himself. Covered in blood, a synical smirk on his face. Because old Harry would like to be covered in ounces of Draco's blood, because he used to hate. The smirk turned into one of ironic realization; this was the second time he was covered in Malfoy blood.

The shape shifted as the new Harry's thoughts came through. An impeccable, breath taking Draco stood next to him, and they were both clean of the vile red fluid. Draco smiled and wrapped his arms around Harry from behind. Draco undressed him, although Harry knew nothing was changing, because he felt the clammy, bloody clothes still hanging on his body. The Boy Who Lived For Sorrow turned around, and of course there was no one there.

When he turned back around, Draco was standing in The Mirror naked next to an equally naked Harry. Draco turned his forearms up, and blood spread up and over his body, until he was submerged and completely left Harry. The Harry in The Mirror repeated the action of Draco, and now Mirror-Harry stood, covered in blood from his chest, down.

The Mirror of Erised had showed him what he really wanted. He wanted to be as gone as Draco, since Harry was nothing without his other.

If the people that found a dead and naked Harry the next morning in front of the Mirror knew all this, he would have left the world explained. But Harry left how Draco and he had started; unexplained.

…

Draco and Harry had a friendship that had really bloomed out of nowhere. One day, Harry appeared at Malfoy Manor and asked to speak to the youngest, and Draco had slowly come into the sitting room. Harry looked gorgeous; his eyes weren't hiding a dark past, and an easy smile sat disgruntling on his face the whole time. Later that night, after a riveting conversation and a friendly game of chess, after Harry had gone home, Draco sat giggling into a pillow in elation. Each day of the week was identical to the first, and the week surely turned into a month.

Somewhere along the way, Harry had come to him with an even grander smile than usual and giggled himself about some Muggle girl that had asked him to coffee. That night, after another round of chess, after Harry had gone home, Draco let hot tears pour down his face and let a head ache of frustration develop. Because earlier, Draco prodded their friendship and called the Green Eyed Wonder by his first named, only to be brushed off as 'Malfoy'.

Within the next 3 months, Harry had brought countless stories to Draco about how wonderful this Muggle was, how pretty she was, how well they went together. And eventually, and Draco saw it coming, the feminine named of the Muggle girl turned into the masculine named of a half-blood male. This gave Draco the smallest spark of hope, until Harry didn't come at all two weeks later. Actually, he didn't come into the Manor for five days straight.

The Saturday that he finally arrived, their was a cut on his cheek and bruises peeking out from under his sleeves. Draco frowned and matched eyes with Harry. Harry quickly looked down, as if ashamed that he had made eye contact. The last remaining Potter gave a haphazard explanation, something along the lines of 'he doesn't want me to see you', and then he left before Draco could knock sense into him.

Eventually the pattern was returned to normal, Harry coming everyday with a gorgeous smile and no bruises on him. And eventually, of course, Harry started dated a pureblood girl this time, and after a week of dating Harry was gushing over how perfect they were. Draco wanted to shot himself in the throat, that pain could've been more withstandable. And three weeks later, Harry came in with the smallest of frowns, a band on his left ring finger, and a story of how she became pregnant and they ran off to marry quickly.

Draco fumed. How could any self respecting pureblood do that? Generally, the child was supposed to at least get an approval of their desired spouse. But for this girl to be pregnant and married off within a weekend? Draco wanted to slap her.

But later that night, Draco wanted to slap himself. Much worse than slap, actually. Harry's life was perfect, and he was not a part of it. He must have just been a side amusement game all this time for Harry not to notice the looks of longing sent his way. And if he did know, then Harry was a masochistic bastard. Draco should hate him, want to rid him of his life, but all the Malfoy heir felt were glorious feelings toward Harry. Glorious.

The way Draco was found the next morning was not glorious at all though. Laying in a pool of his own blood. Cuts on the inside of his forearms, one arm spelling 'Harry', the other with lightning bolts chiseled in. Chiseled because Draco was white as marble, as though all the blood in his body was pooled around him.

Glorious was also not a word to describe the relationship of Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. Hate, mutual, unrequited, jealousy, blood, and epiphany were a few adjectives.

Harry had the epiphany was he sobbed over a lifeless body.


	2. Two Prompts

"Morning, Potter." Draco smirked, sitting down next to his red and gold clad classmate. Harry gave him a brief smile before looking back down at his blank parchment. A dark feathered quill rested limply in his hand, and Draco tugged it out of the non-existent grip. This got Harry's attention, and he looked up to find the silver eyes of Draco trained on him whole the tip of the quill traced back and forth over his lips. It continued until Draco bite down on it through a smirk, and Harry rolled his eyes and tugged the feather back into his own hands.

When Snape walked in, Draco had been giving a lusty gaze to his counterpart for how many minutes, and Harry felt slightly…uncomfortable. Not like he didn't want attention from the blonde, just that it was…it was hot in the room. That was it. Snape needed a fan, how did he not get over heated in those long black robes of his? Harry tore his eyes away from Draco's and back to the front of the class and rubbed a self conscious hand across the back of his neck. The pads of his fingers were not met with moisture; maybe more than just the temperature was a little hot.

Harry nearly jumped out of his seat when a hand fell on his knee. The pale hand seemed to travel further and further up every time Snape glanced over to them, and when Harry was just about whimpering, Draco's hand disappeared, and was replaced with the silver stare again. And the last draw was when Snape gave them a large Potions essay (which Harry would probably fail because of the blonde distraction,) and the whole class groaned. Especially Draco. No, Draco didn't even moan, he just groaned sensually next to the flustered Gryffindor. Said teen stood up and voiced a very loud question.

"May I go to the loo?"

Snape glared and waved him off with a hand, and the whole class watched Harry retreat. When the darked haired teen reached the door, he turned back briefly and gave a smirking blonde a smoldering look. Sooner rather than later, Draco would get what was coming to him.

….

Draco was the impatient sort of person. If he wanted something done, he wanted it done now. He was also painfully blunt when it came to voicing his opinions, thoughts, and general wants. Because he didn't like to be kept waiting.

When Harry told him that he wanted to keep their relationship a secret until they were emotionally mature, he wasn't very pleased. But he also had a lot of respect for Harry, and had been respecting the request for almost 2 months now. In his opinion, Harry should start respecting Draco's requests some more and realize that the relationship was _very_ emotionally mature. Close to being physically, if Draco analyzed how they acted around each other long enough.

And being the impatient person he was, he straight up told Harry that he wanted to be snogged, cuddled, linked by hands, in public now instead of private. The raven haired teen looked pissed for a moment before his brows furrowed, and he nodded, and they were devising a plan. It would be simple and not emotional. Their friends could have no say, because they would show the entire school before saying anything. They actually didn't have to say anything; the plan including acting as if nothing was normal, other than the public affection.

On a Tuesday morning, they strode into the Great Hall holding hands, and stood their small talking until they captured most everyone's attention. When they felt more than a few curious eyes on them, they turned to each other, and the former enemies kissed briefly, before turning and walking to their respective tables.

Needless to say, there was definitely a group of wide-eyed Gryffindors and a group of gaping Slytherins.


	3. Someone Like You

_I heard that you've settled down. That you've found a girl and you're married now. I heard that your dreams came true. Guess she gave you things I couldn't give to you._

"GOLDEN BOY MARRIES CHILDHOOD SWEETHEART."

"GOLDEN BOY BALANCES HEAD AUROR JOB AND 3 KIDS."

"GOLDEN BOY ACCEPTED OFFER AS HEADMASTER OF HOGWARTS."

Each newspaper article was like a slap in the face to Draco. The 'Golden Boy', who never seemed golden to him until Draco lost him, was gone. Permanently. He had married the Weaslette from their days at Hogwarts, who, as a well kept secret, was never his childhood sweetheart.

It was Draco. Always Draco. Draco and Harry, who expected to settle down together in Grimmauld Place, and would never have to leave each others side with their pooled savings. Draco who could wear a white tux as he walked down the aisle to a black tux and smile wearing Harry. Draco who was supposed to grow with Harry and contribute to a relationship, unlike any other he had. But he couldn't. And Harry's dreams came true without Draco.

_Old friend, why are you so shy? Ain't like you to hold back, or hide from the light._

Draco was going to do it. It wasn't a matter of wanting to or trying to confuse Harry. He physically, mentally, needed to see Harry, needed to get nothing more than an old smile or a suave brush of the hands. This was out of Harry's box of characteristics. He was never this shy around Draco. He had always attacked any situation with the blonde, and Draco missed his shining Harry.

_I hate to turn up out of the blue uninvited but I couldn't stay away, I couldn't fight it. I'd hope you'd see my face and that you'd be reminded that for me it isn't over._

This Apparation was the easiest of his life; all he had to do was close his eyes and imagine Harry, and when he opened his eyes, he was standing in Hogsmeade, facing his old school. The walk seemed to be short, but through it Draco's stomach was tossing and turning, wanting to see Harry so bad that he couldn't fight it, but at the same time wondering what Harry would do when he saw Draco; he hoped it wouldn't be bad. Or maybe Harry would see that Draco never ended them, could never end them fully, and Draco would get a smile and a hug, like nothing changed. The castle hadn't changed, now that he thought about it. The students were still either wide eyed with curiousness, or grinning with foolishness. And the Head Master's password was easy to guess, only for the fact that Harry told Draco what he would make it.

"Licorice Wands."

The room was exactly the same. Except now their was a portrait next to Dumbledore's of a young and handsome Harry, and an older and handsome Harry sat behind the desk with a surprised expression.

"Draco?"

"Yeah."

"How are you? We haven't talked in ages, I've been so busy."

"How busy could you be? Dumbledore had time to discover Voldemort's Horcruxes all while maintaining a 'healthy' relationship with you."

This was said a bit too cynically, and while Draco bit his tongue, Harry frowned. Then the worry lines faded, and Draco felt a spark of hope. Until Harry's eyes focused not on him, but on the ginger female in Quidditch robes behind the blonde.

"Oh. I-I'll come back later."

"No," Draco voiced, tearing his eyes away from the slightly smiling and full of adoration face of Harry. His dark head turned and the look stayed, and Draco felt slightly functional for a moment.

"Don't leave yet, Draco. Stay for dinner. Are you still excellent at Potions? Good, our DADA teacher is doubling as Potions Master, and the job is yours if you want, we have room-"

"Harry. I can't stay. It was a mistake to even come here. I should go."

There was clear pain on Harry's face now; the phrasing struck home, when Draco had told Harry that they were a mistake all those years ago. But the ex-Slytherin knew it would work, because now they were detached, until the raven haired man came forward. He got closer and closer until his long arms wrapped around Draco. Two pale hands fell on Harry's waist, and he could sob from how much he missed this.

"I will always love you, Draco."

_Nevermind I'll find someone like you. I wish nothing but the best for you, too. Don't forget me, I beg. I remember you said; sometimes it lasts in love, but sometimes it hurts instead. Sometimes it lasts in love, but sometimes it hurts instead._

Draco didn't leave the campus immediately. He never left, actually. He went to the lake and sat on the sandy shore. It was here that they came on their anniversary date, where they had laid out a blanket and then Harry moaned under Draco as he slowly rocked into the dark haired teen. Their first time. This was all too hurtful. Why did Draco think he could do this? He loved Harry. Always would love Harry. And he would never be able to accept that he lost the more important thing in his life.

"MALFOY HEIR FOUND DROWNED IN BLACK LAKE OF HOGWARTS. AUTHORITIES SUSPECT SUICIDE."

"GOLDEN HEADMASTER, HARRY POTTER, FOUND DEAD IN ASTRONOMY TOWER OF HOGWARTS. AUTHORITIES SUSPECT SUICIDE."

_Sometimes it lasts in love, but sometimes it hurts instead._


	4. Quidditch and Love Potions

Their hearts were racing,lungs heaving, veins pounding excited blood through their systems. They were flying so close they could hear every whispered insult shot at the other. And their eyes were locked on a single object in front of them; the fluttering Golden Snitch. Harry felt so close to it, almost able to wrap the tips of his fingers around it if he reached his arm out. Every time he was about to catch it, a small shoulder bump from damned Draco Malfoy would stop him. The chase of the Snitch had lead them into a desperate downhill descent, and Harry's glasses were becoming cloudy from the sand of the Quidditch pitch blowing into their faces. He felt the grassy surface brush against the toes of his boots, and he cursed, pulling up and over, deciding to wait for Draco to do the same and the Snitch to change its course. In Draco's mind, he had already caught it.

By now, he too could feel the ground scuffing his toes, and he was thinking about the possibilities. He could pull up like Harry did and most likely loose to the Wonder Boy, or he could make a desperate dive for the Snitch, much like Harry in his first year. If he dived and caught it, it may gain the respect of Harry and begin a new aspect of the relationship, or he could let Harry be happy and win. Diving sounded loads better. So he pushed the broom out from under him, shoes now fully on the ground as his feet were slapping against the grass. The running pace wouldn't work for long, seeing as he was definitely not as fast on his feet than on his broom. But the risk was already taken, and all he had to do was leap forward and capture the golden ball. Draco just about had it-

The hand with the Snitch in it was pressed firmly against his chest as he tumbled across the ground. The very _hard_ ground. And Merlin's beard, Draco Malfoy actually just caught the Golden Snitch for he first time in his 5 years of Quidditch. Was he dreaming? Probably not, due to the pain in the limp hand that held the weakly fluttering Golden Snitch. He hissed at the pain and stood, cradling his hand against his chest and looking up. It seemed that everyone in the stadium had frozen until a small green dot, high up in the stands, gave a loud whoop and then the whole Quidditch team was swooping down. The Gryffindors were amazed, and they flew down calmly. Draco could see Harry distinctly, his dark head being the last one down.

All of the Slytherins were chanting and patting Draco on the back, forming a circle around him and gazing hungrily at the Snitch in his pale hands. The crowd seemed to be breaking though, as none other than Harry Potter came through and smirked at Draco.

"Congratulations." His hand came forward to shake, much like when Draco extended his in 1st year. But this time, Draco clasped it, and over come with pure elation and extacy, yanked Harry forward and planted a full kiss on his mouth. He tasted like crisp wind and pumpkin juice, lips chapped and Draco felt like they fit perfectly against his. Harry's hand came forward to rest on his bicep, squeezing tightly, and the blonde flicked his tongue forward just before his counterpart pulled away with a stunned expression.

The entire stadium was dead silent, eyes locked on Draco and Harry. Their bodies were still close together, and it was almost so quiet that Draco could only hear the blood rushing in his ears and to his cheeks, and the light panting of the teen in front of him. His own mouth opened and close wordlessly, trying to think of something to say, before Harry pressed a finger to his lips and opened his own mouth.

"Draco…I think we should go talk about this," the blonde almost sighed in relief that Harry didn't want to punch him, "Or we may be doing no talking at all." Draco's breath caught, now worried all over again, until one of his green eyes winked.

Before they took off from the Quidditch Pitch, the almost forgotten Golden Snitch fluttered up between them, and Harry snatched it, much like he did to Draco's heart.

…

Blaise Zabini was a terrible person. His conception of following the rules was to follow the one and only street one; break all of them. And, well, not get caught. And he was very well practiced in not getting caught. Especially when it came to Draco Malfoy, who was a little bit more reckless with him actions. And words. Especially the ones revolving around Harry Potter. And when it involved Harry Potter, Draco had a mouthful. But he would always dance around his actual feelings towards Potter, the git, and Blaise therefore _had _to steal the Veritaserum from Snape's supply closet. Which wasn't easy. But slipping it into Draco's drink was easy on one faithful Saturday morning. Said blonde was too busy staring at Potter across the Great Hall.

The next thing everyone knew, Draco was charging across the Hall to sit at the Gryffindor table. He sat next to Potter and instead of insulting like he usually would, Draco began telling him and the whole Hall what he liked about Harry. From his eyes (which matched Slytherin green better) to his hair (which complimented Draco's perfectly) and then to his lips (which would look really good kissing Draco or sucking his dick). Harry simply smiled and squeezed Draco's upper thigh, pinkie brushing against the crease of his leg and crotch. The dark haired boy gazed knowingly over at Blaise before pulling Draco (by the hand) out of the Hall while everyone stared at them (and Draco stared at Harry's ass and talked about how fuckable it was).

…..


	5. Three Prompts

"You're bottoming."

"No, you're bottoming."

"No, you are because I'm taller."

"You are because my dick is bigger."

"How would you know that? You've never seen me!"

"Yes, I did! At Quidditch once, before we were dating!"

"Whatever, it doesn't matter, you're bottoming!"

"AS IF!"

"I am not going to be butt screwed, so you will have to bottom."

"Draco, I'm a Gryffindor, which practically spells out that I have to top!"

"NO, it means your'e brave enough to take it up the ass!"

"Draco Malfoy, I am so turned on by this. You are bottoming, so shut up before I bend you over now."

"Love you, Harry."

"Love you, too."

…..

"Draco, why won't you go with me? I promise it won't be boring."

"Pansy, I know it will be boring. I've been dragged to these things my whole life, and they are terrible."

The girl pouted, turning to Blaise, who looked very dapper and had a slight smile on his face.

"But Draco, I hear this ballet is awfully exciting." His tone was almost monotone except for a few traces of sarcasm, and they both rolled their eyes. Pansy turned to Draco and gave him a stern look. You'll be going whether you like it or not." And Draco could not argue with that, and so he was being choked with a tie and strapped to a car seat before he could make another sharp comment.

Draco had to admit, the theater was extremely nice. It had high arches for the ceiling and a warmly lit stage, and fancy squishy chairs filling most of the floor area. Pansy had reserved their seats almost directly in the middle of the theater, so Draco could see all of the occupants of the hall from his seat. And wow, was he surprised at the familiar face he saw. None other than Harry Potter and Hermione Granger sat about two rows in front of him to his right. Harry looked about as bored as Draco was, and that really didn't surprise him. So Draco's new form of entertainment would be to get Harry's undivided attention.

He tried at first to whisper yelled, but that did nothing. He almost cast a Patronus, but it would be a little obvious if he just pulled out his wand and a silver ferret burst from the tip of it. Draco glared at the back of Harry's head, and by some stroke of good luck, the dark head turned towards him and they locked eyes. The glare seemed to last forever, and an odd sensation rushed through Draco. Was _this_ sexual frustration? It couldn't be. But it must be, because Harry had just stood up and started walking towards the loo, and the hand held behind his back made a fingering motion for Draco to follow. And follow he did.

When Draco entered the bright restroom, Harry was leaning over the sink, gazing at his reflection in the mirror. Draco walked over, standing behind him and wrapping his arms around Harry's waist. The shorter boy flinched, but Harry's ass was pressed against Draco's hardening cock now.

"Long time, no see, Malfoy."

…..

Everything hurt. Why was the Gryffindor common room so far away? Draco moaned in pain, stumbling into the cold stone wall beside him. The Fat Lady was so close Draco could here her obnoxious singing, and he collapsed in front of her. She looked down, disgruntled, and shrieked, swinging open and revealing the red and gold common room. A few students looked at the open passageway with curious expressions on their faces, but didn't move, not seeing Draco on the ground. But Hermione, Merlin bless her, stood up and moved slowly to the entrance way. Her jaw fell open at the sight of Draco with matted and sweaty hair and purple bruises climbing up his bare torso and arms. Hermione called out for Harry and Ron must have been coming down the stairs or something, because Draco heard a faint voice echoing the call.

Harry came rushing down the stairs with a large smile on his face, Draco's Slytherin tie on his neck, and oh yes, that was the one piece of clothing that the blonde didn't have torn off his body. Hermione looked frantic, and Harry's smile fell off his features and he rushed over, stopping for a second at the sight of Draco, before leaping through the portrait hole and crouching down next to his boyfriend. Draco was gathered into his arms, and a face pressed against the top of his hair and both of them were shaking. The Slytherin was wincing at the pain in his arse from Harry pulling him onto his lap, but that didn't matter; he had finally gotten to him.

Harry was placing kisses across Draco's face and their wet faces pressed together, and Draco almost winced, though Harry's gentle touch was nothing compared to the roughness of the attacker from before. And the dark haired man was whispering questions, like 'Who? When?' and reassurances like 'It's ok, I've got you.' All Draco did was nod and sob a little harder, body contracting painfully on it's self and against Harry.

"It's ok, I love you."


	6. Vampires, Squads, And More Malfoys

They were talking. All they had ever done was talk so far. About Draco's lifestyle, about Harry's lifestyle. About their lifestyle. About how Harry was dying to be touched, to be kissed, to complete the physical aspect of the relationship, and how Draco didn't trust himself.

"What if I bite you, Harry? I couldn't live with myself." Draco had said this in a sigh, and looked over at his mortal boyfriend. The wizard was staring up at the ceiling, neck stretched out teasingly to Draco.

"I guess whatever happens…happens." He shrugged and turned his head when Draco placed a cold hand on his chin. Their faces were close, and the vampire could feel Harry's warm breath on his face.

"Do you trust me, Harry?"

"Absolutely." Draco connected their lips and kissed Harry slowly. His green eyes were wide in amazement, and hesitated a half second before moving his lips against the other males'. Draco tried staying still before pushing at Harry's shoulder, rolling over so that he was more over Harry than before. He felt the dark haired male underneath him pull away slightly for air, and while Harry panted, Draco moved his lips to Harry's throat.

He placed light kisses around the place where Harry's pulse point was, and then stopped moving when he realized Harry had done the same. Cautiously, Draco's lips pulled back around his teeth, and he scrapped them slightly over Harry's neck. The wizard seemed to remember where he was, and a hand came up to tangle in Draco's hair. The vampire looked up in surprise. Harry hadn't run away. He wasn't scared of Draco, because he didn't think there was a reason to be.

Draco went back to kissing Harry's mouth, and his tongue flicked against Harry's mouth. Of course Harry should be afraid, Draco was a monster. He could injure Harry, kill him, torture and tear him until the only thing left were his glasses and a stain of blood.

And above all else, Draco was terrified of hurting himself and Harry. No human had ever trusted him like that, he didn't know what to do with himself. And if he hurt Harry…Draco couldn't let this turn into anything more. It had already gone too far; Harry had feelings, lusts, whatever it is mortals have.

Which is why Draco walked out, because he was feeling a little too mortal to continue undressing the lovely and innocent human being

….

There was a loud crashing noise from out side the pink room, and the two students and one professor raised their heads. The professor made a displeasured sound in her throat and excused herself, instructing one of the students to keep a watch on the other while she went to deal with the problem.

The professor was Dolores Umbridge, probably one of the most inhumane being that the second student, Harry Potter, had ever met. The first student, Draco Malfoy, remained ignorant to her detentions and refusal to teach the DADA position properly. Draco was stuck staring at Harry while he picked up a quill and began writing on the parchment in front of him. He noticed that the dark haired boy didn't have to re-dip the writing utensil in ink- was there even an ink well?

The answer was no, but there was a grimace on Harry's face. The hand that wasn't writing was stuffed under his robes, and his bottom lip was clenched between his teeth. Draco realized that he hadn't had a slightest clue what Harry was doing; the scarhead had managed to break three school rules, why was he simply writing on parchment? Draco stepped closer and peered down his pointed nose at the page; _I must not tell lies_.

That was even odder; what did causing a disruption in the Entrance Hall have to do with lying?

"What do you want, Malfoy?"

The voice was so sudden that the pale blonde jumped and stepped away, looking down at a Harry with an angry and pained expression on his face. Draco shrugged, turning away like he was indifferent, and peered at Harry from the corner of his eye. The speckled teen had revealed his other hand and Draco nearly gasped; it was inflamed. A pattern that looked like words, sort of, were especially bright, and the ones closest to the top of his hand were white from how hard Harry was clenching his fist.

He knew it was irrational, but Draco grabbed the hand and peered down at it; this was mental! The words that Harry was writing on the parchment were being etched into his hand! Draco bit his own lip and met eyes with Harry.

"Let me finish, Malfoy, or I'll get in more trouble."

"As if I'll let you stay here! Go on, don't be a bloody Gryffindor." The said student was slightly dumbfounded; was Draco really trying to help him? But he shook his head.

"She counts the sentences. She would be able to tell."

Their eyes met again, and Harry could see that Draco's decision was already made; Harry was leaving the room whether he liked it or not.

"I'll finish them for you. You don't deserve this."

Harry left silently, and just before the door closed behind him, he head Draco call out something.

"Good luck, Harry!"

…..

Lucius Malfoy had discovered a new curse over the summer. He had tested it over the summer on the House Elves, and he found it absolutely brilliant. It was better than _Sectumsempra_ and _Crucio_ in the sense that it was both; it spread like fire throughout your body and gave a tense prickling feeling along with the sensation that your skin was being pulled apart or cut slowly. He didn't need a Dark Lord to discover new curses for him; no, he could raid the precious Hogwarts school and put every single 8th year under the curse. His son had betrayed him and returned to school, and so his class would pay.

They attacked during a gathering in the Great Hall. There were shrieks from around the Hall as the former Death Eaters burst through the doors, re-utilizing the Vanishing Cabinets. Several students stood and raise their wands, but the hooded figures had strong protection charms around them, and the charged toward the Slytherin table. Lucius revealed himself to the end of the table and a few of the old Death Eaters that had raped his blonde son grabbed the boy and pulled him toward the front of the Hall. With a wave of his wand, the curse was cast, and Draco was withering under the intense pain. Malfoy Sr. turned to the rest of the outraged and confused and terror stricken students and grinned.

"I have developed a new curse. It spreads through your body, and slowly kills. My son, the blood traitor, Draco is the first one. Each Eight year, who I know fought so valiantly during the War, will be put under this and die in front of your peers."

The Hall burst into sound, but was all silenced as the double doors opened and revealed a panting Harry Potter. His green eyes searched the room and fell on the two Malfoys.

"What the bloody hell is going on?" He was at Draco's side in an instant, holding his even paler face in his hands and trying to connect their eyes. Draco was sobbing, and Harry couldn't stand seeing his acquaintance, his love, in pain like this.

"Please Harry…please kill me…I can't die like this…" Harry nodded, feeling hot tears streak down his own face. He first turned to Lucius, and the Killing Curse was cast; of course Harry meant it, and his sheer anger could penetrate the Shield Charm. The first Malfoy fell, and Draco was now clawing at Harry, wailing louder. There was no other way, it seemed.

"Make it painless, Potter…and don't forget me."

"Never. I would never forget you."

_Avada Kadarva._


	7. In Sickness and In Cuts

"Go 'way, Podder, I don' need you."

"Do you think I want to be taking care of you when I could be doing something else more important?"

Of all the days that Harry had to break his wrist, it would be the one where Draco was bed sick and Madame Pomfrey was on leave for the weekend; he had come rushing in just as she whisked by, barely stopping long enough to tell Harry to take care of Malfoy and to mutter a healing spell. Harry had been trying to force a purplish potion down his throat for the last 30 minutes.

"Just take it Malfoy! You could stop bitching about how your head hurts if you took the potion and GOT BETTER!"

Draco rose a brow, as if to say, 'I'm too good for medicine,', and slumped lower in the cot. They initiated a glaring contest, and Harry got an idea as he stared into the tired eyes. He lifted the spoon to his mouth and opened his lips, the purple fluid being poured in like syrup. He grimaced at the taste and swallowed around it; no wonder Malfoy didn't want to take this.

Harry lent over the blonde and grabbed harshly at the sides of his face, prying his jaw and mouth open, and connected their lips. Draco let out a cry of protest and tried scrambling back, but Harry's grip was firm, and the tongue was already transferring the potion into the other boys' mouth. When Harry finally pulled away, he had a smirk on his lips, and Draco was blushing with an uncomfortable look on his face.

"Better, Malfoy?"

…..

The Dark Mark was hideous. It was absolutely disgusting. He wish that he could scrub it off in the sink, and scrub off Harry's scar from his forehead, and scrub off every memory that he owned from the war.

But he compared his attitude about things now to his hair when he had to spend two months in Azkaban when his case was on trial. His hair had grown to lay around his face and shoulders like a blonde curtain, and it was dirty. If he couldn't wash it off, then he would cut it off. So when Harry had been the escort to pick him up from Azkaban, he had a butchered hair cut that was even more grimy from the jagged rock he used to cut it. The man from his past immediately took him to his own flat, plunged him in the bath, and when Draco came out, Harry had dinner ready and the pull out couch made with sheets and all.

So like his hair, if he couldn't wash the Mark, he'd cut it. So he found himself on the floor of the bathroom, a razor in his hand. He was brushing it idly up and down his forearm, just enough that it would tickle. He thought he might have Harry knocking at the door, but that didn't matter. Harry would understand, right? It wasn't like he was trying to kill himself. He would be cutting across the river, not down, and in the middle of his forearm as opposed to near the wrist or near the elbow.

The first cut didn't sting. Or, he told himself that. That the pain was an illusion, and that as long as it did its job and sliced through the skin that was covered by the body of the snake that it was OK. So he didn't feel the second one. Or the third. But the fourth one was terrible and retched and made him want to puke over the blood that was soaking into his trousers. So soon enough he was crying into his bleeding skin, sitting in his own sick and feeling like a cynical bastard. He felt Harry's arms wrap around him, and there was a cool washcloth on his arm and Harry was kissing his face and telling him that yes, it was ok, no, he didn't hate Draco for being a weak Death Eater. Told him that at the end of the day, between white sheets, whether they be happy or sad or lonesome or lustful, that all that mattered was each other.

Draco's apologies turned into I love yous, and Harry's consoling turned into I love you, toos.

…


	8. Smut and Fluff

Draco shyly offered his hand to Harry, and together, they stepped into the cold of Hogsmeade. There was butterflies in his stomach, and he severely regretted asking Harry out, because even if he did say yes, what in the world was he thinking? They couldn't even start a decent conversation. He finally realized the difference between the awkward and the uncomfortable silence that was always apparent between them

They had decided to go to Honey Dukes and bought each other sweets, and when they stepped back out into the snow, Harry giggled and wrapped his lips around a lollipop. The pink tinged sweet matched their cheeks, and they trudged through the courtyard towards Madam Malkins, which was always comfortably warm and cozy. They had a small conversation about Quidditch and the latest Transfiguration homework, and Draco could almost hit himself at how un-datelike this date had turned out to be. As they walked back towards the castle, Draco was thinking about how to make an excuse for how terrible the night was, and Harry was talking to himself about an array of things. They finally came to stand outside the giant double doors that lead into the dimly light Hogwarts.

"Look, Harry, I'm sorry, this did not go how I expected, if you want to forget-"

Harry had pressed a finger to his lips, and Draco furrowed his brows. Harry stepped closer to him and gave Draco the sweetest, simplest, most brilliant kiss he'd ever experienced. Harry was warm, and he could feel green eyes on him, and he tasted like tea and strawberry lollipops.

"Let's go out next weekend. I'll take you to the Hogs Head and buy you a drink. I had a great time…Draco."

…..

Why were they doing this? They didn't even like each other. They hated each other, loathed each other, worked to make t6he other look like shit every day. And yet, here there were, sneaking around in the Room of Requirement like they did every day of the week, snogging on a conjured bed. Harry was stretched out on it, a arm above his head, and Draco lied on top of him, his arm stretched up as well, and their hands were connected.

_I want both of us naked._

And so they were, and Harry was moving his other hand down Draco's body, grabbing at his arse and tracing the smooth dip between his arse and his thigh. Draco's lips moved away from his and went down his throat, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses down his neck and chest, and oh, Merlin, those sinful lips were wrapping around his cock and if he looked down he would see the top of a blonde head bobbing between his thighs.

_I want Draco stretched and lubed._

Harry saw his back arch at the uncomfortable sensation as the magic surrounding them complied and Draco felt like three fingers had just stretched him gently and suddenly. He _crawled_ up Harry's body, oh God, and his pale hands splayed over Harry's chest as he lowered himself down on the cock that was pressing against his ass. The raven haired teen moaned, and the other let out something akin to a whimper as Harry gave small bucks up into him. Large, rough hands fell onto his hips and he was being lowered and raised, and if he leaned back just a little so that the angle was different, it felt _so_ good and he was groaning obscenely. Harry let out a sound of his own as Draco began fucking himself and their hands both wrapped around his cock, pumping in time with each bounce.

And Draco looked so beautiful, hair falling in his face messily, chest rising and falling as he was panting rapidly and his eyes squinted together as he was pleasured more and more. Harry told him that, after he flipped him over and was thrusting him into the mattress, he whispered, _"You are so beautiful," _like he did every day, and their lips connected and Draco gasped out a "_Love you, love this, Harry!" _as he came, and the look on his face was enough to bring Harry to a peak as well. He collapsed next to Draco, the pair of them breathing heavily and Harry glanced at Draco and thought he was still beautiful, even as his cock was softening and the scent of sex was cooling in the air, and Draco couldn't have _really _just said that he loved him, could he? His green eyes fell on Draco's lips as the blonde murmured,

_"Nothing can be accounted for during sex, right?"_


	9. Marriage, Possession, and Education

"Pass the coffee."

Draco nodded, complying and lazily scooting the pot over to Harry.

"Pass the paper."

Harry rolled his eyes, pushing over the folded newspaper that was as close to Draco as it was to himself.

"What are you going to do today?"

It was Draco's turn to roll his eyes; Harry knew exactly what he was doing today. Go to work, meet up with Harry for lunch, finish work,come home, perhaps shag, and then sleep.

"I'm going to train elephants at the zoo in Bangkok."

"Sounds utterly fabulous." Harry grinned, leaning over to bump shoulders with Draco and reached for an apple. The dark haired man stood up and walked around the counter, washing his coffee cup out in the sink, apple clenched between his teeth. His hair was mused, glasses slightly crooked, and there was still sleep evident on his face. Draco didn't mind this. He couldn't see a problem with his current lifestyle; he had a more than healthy relationship, a job that didn't make him want to pull out his hair, and their flat was absolutely perfect. No, he thought, he would be content to live like this till he wrinkled and was telling bed time stories to his grandchildren.

"Will you marry me?"

…..

Harry was a possessive being. If something was his, then every person surrounding him must know that it's his. He was also very protective. Whenever there was a wavering in the tall stacks of books that Hermione buried herself, he would always pull her out of the tumble of Ancient Runes books that was sure to come and seat her in a safer place. Or when Ron would be eating mass amounts of candy, and Harry would tell him that he'd get fat and no girl would ever go for a fat bloke.

But this was fourth year, and they were grown up, and Harry had nothing to do with himself because the year looked to be dull and Hermione and Ron learned how to take care of themselves. He began to find himself walking the first years to their classes, and every girl in his year was swooning about _oh how adorable_ and _oh my gosh that child he has looks like he could be our baby! _And it wasn't just the girls that were batting their eyelashes at the green eyed boy. A certain blonde's heart was always fluttering every time he saw Harry with a blonde child or a brunette with blue eyes.

The protective trait of Harry Potter didn't affect Draco until the blonde's name was being spit out of the Goblet of Fire and the Great Hall produced one big shout of protest. Through all the confusion, Harry had bolted to Draco's side, looked up at him and gave him a bright smile.

"Don't worry Malfoy, I'll volunteer to go in the tournament for you. I don't want your pretty little face being injured."

…

Draco Malfoy had no clue about sex. Didn't know the different positions, didn't know how to prepare for it. He knew that most of the time there was penetration. And that sex lead to babies. But what he really didn't get was how you didn't make a baby every time you had sex. If that was so, wouldn't the earth be massively over populated? He knew that more than half the Slytherin's would be some type of mother by now. So Draco Malfoy had one option; he had to go to the one person he knew had knowledge of the subject.

Harry Potter had taken summer school classes every year he returned to Number 4 Privet Drive. He learned Language Arts, and Geometry, and Biology, and just about every class one could fit into four weeks of every summer. And by far his favorite was Sex Ed. Especially the end of the course, when the teacher would pass out condoms like he expected everyone to go and screw behind the school. Which was why he was massively surprised when one blonde Slytherin came up to him, inquiring about said condom. So Harry had pulled him into Gryffindor tower while every eon was at lunch, and whipped out his own cock with a light blush.

"First things first; don't put on a condom if you aren't partially or fully erect. You get bigger when you're hard." He said this as he slowly pumped himself, as if it were completely normal to touch oneself in front of someone who wasn't even a friend.

"After you get the condom open, without tearing it, you have to 'pinch an inch'. Leave room at the tip for cum." Harry had pulled out a condom and was now holding the tip between two fingers as he explained this to a red Draco. The Slytherin watched in interest as Harry had rolled the condom over himself, and yeah, Harry definitely got bigger when he was hard, and he was actually better looking when his erection wasn't tucked into his pants. Their eyes connected, and Harry was smirking.

"So once you've got it on…how do you fix it?"

"Well…that's another problem for me to teach you entirely."


	10. Faking and Wedding

She looked beautiful. Her hair was charmed to stay in perfect curls, she was wearing her Aunt's tiara, and each step she took lead her to an even more beautiful man. It was heart breaking and terrible, but Draco was happy for the pretty girl turned woman that was to wed the Boy Who Lived turned man.

Happy that she could make him happy. Happy that she never made him sick from worry. Happy that she could simply apologize after each fight and not have another insult thrown back. Happy that this female who had a childhood crush, who had stayed faithful to the handsome male, got him, and was hers. Happy that they would have children with red hair and green eyes and look like his mother, and children with jet black hair and blue eyes that looked like her father.

Happy that as Harry smiled and took Ginny's hands, his own heart shattered. Because the one thing that Draco would never be happy about was the night he broke Harry. Not just his heart, but the whole of him, and he couldn't deny it because Draco had seen the udder pain in his eyes through the tears. Draco had injured him, had sent a curse at him, had insulted everything there was to insult about him, had attacked him till he was broken beyond repair.

Nobody had even known about their relationship. All they knew was that for months, Harry was happier than they had ever seen, and then suddenly everything he said was monotone, and his expression was blank as an untouched parchment sheet, but not like Harry could use parchment without tearing up because parchment reminded him of Draco. Quidditch reminded him of Draco. His own eye color reminded him of Draco. Draco had torn him to pieces and they regretted everything.

The blonde worked to snap himself into reality, tried to remind himself that Harry had moved on and was trying to be happy. But all he saw when he looked up were emerald green eyes that were trained on him, and all he could think was that they were both crying, and that Draco had missed his chance to object, and Ginny was already saying 'I do' in that soft, girly voice of hers. It had to be a girl, any bloke Harry would ever date reminded him of Draco. And Draco couldn't stand it, had to admit to himself that it was over and that he would not be happy, never be happy when Harry was muttering those faithful words in the same monotone voice and Draco was about to fall over in sobs and-

"I do."

…..

"You are such a slimy git, Malfoy. Why don't you just crawl back to your Slytherin dormitories and order around some first years, or do _something_ productive other than going around picking with people who could care less?" Harry scoffed, pushing himself off of the stone wall he was leaning against, walking towards Draco and away from his friends. He glanced around, making sure more than just Hermione and Ron were watching. It seemed a few members from each House had gathered already. Draco smirked when he noticed them.

"Like you don't go parading around everyday in red and gold acting like a complete prick." The raven haired teen felt a similar smirk tug at his own lips, and he inched towards Malfoy's their eyes meeting in what seemed to be a heated glare.

"Perhaps we should take this elsewhere, Potter? Wouldn't want a stray curse hitting a poor Hufflepuff." The kids standing directly around the two teens shrunk back, knowing how the fight could end. Malfoy turned on his heel, strutting away and pushing open a door which Harry knew to be a mostly unused loo. Harry quickly followed, attempting to not look too eager as he pushed open the double doors. They swung closed, and Harry turned to stare at the blonde in the corner. Draco slowly developed a smirk on his face.

"I think we did good on that one. Did you see that one Ravenclaws' face? Looked petrified." Harry chuckled, stepping closer. "Poor thing didn't know if he was about to be in the middle of a fight between two of the most notorious Slytherins and Gryffindors of Hogwarts…" Draco came closer as well, a pale hand reach up to smooth across the other wizards' face.

"Maybe all that frustration could lead elsewhere, hm?" Harry turned away from Draco, gazing at a dirty mirror. He could see the blonde roll his eyes over his shoulder, and two arms snaked around his waist, a set of warm lips pressing to his ear.

"Do you ever think we'll tell anyone?" The 15 year old mused, turning around in the embrace and receiving an Eskimo kiss. "One day, Potter."

Harry quirked a brow, leaning forward and kissing the blonde, and murmured against his lips, "Last names are only endearing in bed, sweet heart."


	11. Pulse and Tie

Three years after the battle of Hogwarts, 10 years of intense sexual tension, and one year of dancing around each other lead to Draco and Harry finally becoming…well, they didn't really know how to describe it. The term would not be 'boyfriends' or 'lovers', that was far to fluffy for their taste. If someone were to ever inquire, then would just exchange glances, link hands and say "We're together." In unison, as if they were the ginger twins that Harry grew up with. And now, after almost six months of 'being together', Draco had Harry absolutely wrapped around his finger. And tonight, they would be attending a Ministry function that was so far out of Harry's league, he hadn't the slightest idea of what 'black tie event' meant. And so he had emerged from their bedroom, wearing simply a button up shirt, trousers, and his hair as tousled as ever. Draco, looking handsome as ever, developed a cleft of worry between his brows, and marched the raven haired man back into their room. Now, an hour and a half later, found Draco wearing only half his suit, hands covered in hair gel, and more frustrated than he;d been when he was dealing with a bothersome pimple. Harry was frowning, sitting on the bathroom counter, complaining as Draco dragged more and more hair gel through his hair. Of course, the magic that saved Harry's dark hair as a child was prevailing; each time Draco had it smoothed to perfection, it would lose all essence of hair product and reform in an even more tangled mass. And so thirty minutes later found a now _sexually_ frustrated Draco angrily snogging a bemused Harry, hands locked in his hair and now with the knowledge that hair gel didn't do a thing.

…

Harry wasn't alive anymore. He was definitely beyond living. His pulse should not be pounding in his ears; he despised it, wanted to have it stop forever. Every too-quick beat of his heart reminded him that he was mortal, living, due to die soon, that he couldn't have this forever. He couldn't have this blonde _god_ hovering over him forever, couldn't have every press of the lips be permanent, couldn't make every rock of hips last that much longer. He felt himself getting closer, he would never last long, doomed from the start. His only comfort of the experience was that the man above him, and Harry himself, were so connected that he must be getting close, he _had_ to be pleasured enough to let go at the same time as Harry. But then the man was sucking on the pulse point in his neck, massaging his cold fingers into the vein that lay in his wrist. And Harry was climaxing, crying out louder than he ever remembered, not even caring that the other man didn't get near to praising the other, more sensitive places of his body. The blonde above him was still slowly frotting against him, bringing himself to the peak, biting his lip and remaining silent as he released. And then it was over, and Harry was sticky and smelt like sex and didn't want to move because he loved it. But he had to. Had to chip away both of them, had to leave, and had to pretend like he hated the other person. He hated having to see the expression on Draco's face when he walked away without even a simple goodbye kiss. He hated his pulse, because it reminded him he was still living, and still bringing pain to everyone around him.


End file.
